


Don't think about it

by Hecker (MainstreamHecker)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Hurt No Comfort, Masturbation, Porn with Feelings, Teasing, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9451040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MainstreamHecker/pseuds/Hecker
Summary: ...From where Ratchet knelt before Drift, he thought he finally understood what it meant to have a religious experience...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: somnophilia kind of?? But only mentioned. Dom/ sub undertones. No safe words. Unresolved romantic tension. This was not made to be nice
> 
> Feel free to kinkshame my kinks as well as my work. I need the help.

  
Ratchet woke up to the glow of his biolights reflected on the ceiling. Optics blinked slugishly while his processor recalibrated from the recharge, lazily taking in the surrounding and running self diagnosis. The hum of an engine on its last leg. The room kept dark to preserve the fuel. His logistic and self preservation center reminded him that his survival rate in this derelict ship was at 47% at most. Excluding the type of danger he would inevitably face with their kind of luck.

His logistic center pinged him a new number with that line of tought. Ratchet shut it off.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Which was a luxury Ratchet was still trying to adapt to. The berth's defrag adaptor came off with a click. Another thing to get used to. Actually getting to use an adaptor, while in war he would just shut down and prayed to a god he didn't believe that self repair would be enough for him to wake up a sane functional medical officer, and to let it retract automatically as his frame powered up instead of being ripped off in haste to an alarm or an emergency.

It's too early for this. Being alive during the war longer than out of it made everything in his life revolve around it. Everyone's lives did. Their timeline is just a pinpoint correlation to before, early on, during, later, after-

Yeah. Too early for this.

It's only then he noticed Drift, his proximity alert turned down low to keep at bay the claustrophobia of being in a small dingy ship with not enough room to even transform. Drift knelt at the floor, posture slumped and head tilted down as he nuzzled the edge of the berth. His head so close to Ratchet's arm his finger twitched with the temptation to ruffle his head.

He found it endearing, charming even, that Drift would associate him with safety. With comfort. Glad that he could at least provide him this much. Ratchet only saw the back of his head, his body was shifting slowly but too regularly to dismiss him as sleeping.

"I know you're awake," Drift piped up before Ratchet could even think to say something.

"Hey I'm not judging." Ratchet didn't know why he's whispering, but it felt like sacrilage to break the atmosphere they're in. "Well, okay I'm judging. But as long as we're good, we're good."

Ratchet settled back, prepared to power down and leave Drift to whatever he's up to when he heard the noise. His eyes shot open and his frame jolted from the rapid change from aborted recharge to full on energy rush. Engine sputtering in shock. He didn't know how he never noticed it before but the sound is unmistakable . System on full alert, he was painfully aware of the miniscule rocking of the berth from where Drift nuzzled his head, the smell, the sight of Drift shifting and... Shivering.

And the sloppy wet sound of- no. He wouldn't. But. Was he- did he really...

"Drift-"

"Tell me to leave," Drift whispered. Apparently still unwilling to change the mood, as if he did not just got caught masturbating. "I just- I... I'll go if you asked."

And he will, it never crossed Ratchet's mind that he won't, but the sting came from what Ratchet knew Drift knew.

Ratchet won't ask him to leave.

He didn't want him to. Drift knew how he felt about him and yet the fact that he even asked was the only thing that stopped Ratchet from reaching out. From surrendering to the temptation of so close. The heat of Drift's body like a magnet, beckoning, he felt like his plating was warping and bending itself to close the distance.

"No... Drift I don't-," Ratchet shifted, "You dont have to... to leave," his vocalizer clicked and slowly, one by one his system caught up with what was happening. Fan whirring, vent opening, core temperature rising. Preparing. He's still lying prone on the berth, body tense and more mechanical than when he was just a machine in recharge. He didn't know what he should do, what he _could_ do. All of his joints manually locked but primed and ready to- just... prepared.

Drift rocked, the wet sounds from between his thighs got louder. No longer worrying about Ratchet, who's starting to breathe heavier with every motion of the berth.

"Thank you..." he moaned and- and Ratchet was starting to feel like static was building up at the edges of his vision. "I just..." the words came out in a shiver, "I just- I need... I needed this. I nee- please.. Ratchet-"

Ratchet shot up, mind a starving haze, static in his eyes, his head, his throat choked on a groan as he went to seize drift-

"Don't touch me"

And his hand swerved aside instantly at the command. Fingers catching the edge of the berth next to Drift's head, denting the metal in his grip. He could feel the tease of the heat from Drift's frame. The metal under his fingers groaned along with him.

The words didn't change in volume but it didn't make Ratchet any less likely to disobey. Ratchet was never a fan for authority, but he knew he'll never deny whatever Drift would ask of him.

Doesn't make it any less torturous though.

"... Drift," the name rattled through his teeth, his mind couldn't think of anything else as he watched.

Drift finally lifted his head, only a fraction that barely gave Ratchet a glimpse of his face and yet it felt like a blessing. And moments later a curse as a silent whimper from Drift brushed hot air on Ratchet's knuckles.

"Ratchet..." Drift replied back and that alone made Ratchet grip his other hand next to Drift's shoulder. Bracketing him with his bulk as he loomed over him, but Ratchet knew which one of them that's trapped.

He could probably make a metaphor out of this. Pit, maybe that's the stuff that got Drift this hot and running. The hushed atmosphere, the room lighted only by their biolights and the stars, Ratchet's arm braced on either side of him like a temple, and Drift kneeling on the floor with whimpers and moans as quiet as a prayer. But Ratchet considered himself as a realist. A disillusioner. He knew he's not the one being worshipped.

"Drift...," an appeasement, as Ratchet's fan rattled and his teeth grinded. "... Drift," this time a plea, his fingers dented the berth almost to the point of breaking.

"Do you-" Drift's breath hitched. "Do you not mind... do you know what I'm doing. Do you really... Hnggh," this time his hips jumped and his hand increased in pace. Squelching noise echoed across the room and the shuttle never felt as henious before. The tension was enough that Ratchet felt like crying.

"I ..." even if his vocalizer didn't feel like its fritzing from Luna 1 and back, Ratchet didn't think there's anything he could think to say. So this is what people meant when thay said they had an out of body experience.

"I've been here- ah!" his words sped up, just as much as his hands, but Drift was still talking silently, albeit breathily. "I've been here a while, all the time.. All the time you've been asleep I've been- I've been... Ha--aah!"

This time he got up from kneeling, the tip of one of his finials almost brushing against Ratchet's chin and his lips trembled to stop from brushing them a kiss. His spark lept in his chest, "Drift-" hands loosening to accept whatever grace Drift was willing to give him.

But Drift only turned, sitting on his aft with his back to Ratchet and Ratchet moaned a mourning cry when as he was denied some more, no longer getting the glimpse of Drift's face. But he was bestowed with the view of his lower body. Fingers thrusting inside his valve while he grinded his nub on his palm, Ratchet only vaguely saw a hand between those curvaceous thighs. His eyes following the other hand as it made its light caress on the inside of his thigh.

"Does it feel disgusting," Drift panted. "Ratchet- I've been sitting on my fingers. I've been w-wet and hungry and-and fingering- o-ooh, unh!" he emphasized by shoving three, no, four? Shoving his fingers to the hilt and wriggling them.

Drift gave laugh, aroused and self decripating in a way that Ratchet didn't want to think of right now. " I've been fingering myself for- for- I dunno how long," he whined, either he was too aroused to check back how long in his HUD or he had been at it for so long he had truly lost track of how long he had-

Yeah. Ratchet didn't want to think about that either.

But Drift had another thing in mind. "How does- do you. Do you think I'm a- a disgrace. O-oh Ratchet..." Ratchet could hear him biting his lip, "You were asleep a-and im so. So. So filthy, with my fingers stuffed in my- I- I stuffed my valve so f-full while you slept and its so sick"

Drift's voice was finally rising in volume, gone was the tranquil atmosphere as Drift desperately chased his relief. He abandoned moving his hand and instead braced one on the berth's edge next to his head as his hips pumped with vigor. Alternating between thrusting to his fingers and grinding and crushing his nub on his wrist.

"Oh! Oh but Ratchet! It felt so good! It feels so sick and so good- hnggh- ha Aah!!"

And then he suddenly pulled his hand away, bracing that dirty hand with the other three on the berth in denting the berth in frustration. Thighs splayed wide, baring his aching, hungry, and dribling valve to the cold air. Hips still giving aborted pumping motion with the loss of stimulation. A groan of dismay escaped Ratchet, then another groan then he realized a drop of valve fluid splatered onto his finger. He ached to taste it as much as he ached for- for something. Everything. _Anything_.

"No... No please, Drift, please."

"Oooh, Ratchet...." Drift pulled himself up higher, thighs still trembling.

"Finish-" ratchet sobbed, " Oh god Drift. Dear Primus, please finish."

"Can- can I? Should I?" Drift turned his head, finally meeting Ratchet's eyes for the first time since this whole fiasco.

"Yes!!" he pleaded. Pressing a kiss to his own fingers, next to that fluid stained hand. The wiff of lubricant made him give out another sob. "Please, anything! Everything!!"

"I didn't.. I haven't- I've been so bad. This is so dirty. S-so filthy and wrong and sick but- but I haven't come yet." Drift shifted his head to whisper more clearly into Ratchet's ears. As if he needed to do anything more to get Ratchet's attention.

"Is that good Ratchet?" he whispered sultrily, "have I been good to not come?"

"Hnngh... Drift..." on his hands and knees on the berth Ratchet bit his hand. Drool wetting the berth as the constant tangy smell of Drift's valve made his mouth water.

"I was hungry for it. I stuffed myself full while y-you were dead to the world and my valve drooled like a slut. And- and it was disgusting," he arched, hips gyrating in arousal. "and I shouldn't so I- everytime I was gonna- I didn't come, was I good Ratchet? Did I do good?"

Tongue finally brushing that errant droplet, Ratchet heaved a sob. Unable to hold it in anymore "Oh god let me taste you." he licked his hand again, although nothing was left for him to savour. "I-I want you to come Drift. You're good. You're so good. I want you to c-come. Please. Sit on my face, come on me anything, p-please!"

Then Drift stood, facing him. He looked dishelved. He looked like the literal embodiment of physical and emotional mess, eyes dim, platings shivering, his thigh stained with fluid. His face couldn't seem to settle on a single emotion and froze somewhere in between looking lost and hungry. Like this. Right here, right now, he's nowhere near the strong fearless Deadlock. Not the optimistic third in command. Not the unflappable hippie spiritualist.

From where Ratchet knelt before Drift, he thought he finally understood what it meant to have a religious experience.

"Get on the floor please Ratchet."

The words hadn't even finish coming out of Drift's mouth and Ratchet was already on his knees. Eyes wide as he stared reverently. Drift moved to brace his feet on either side of Ratchet's knees. So close, yet Ratchet leaned back until the back of his head hit the berth's edge, not daring to touch. Not yet. Perhaps not ever but now was not-

And then Drift lifted his right knee to rest it on top of the berth next to Ratchet's head and Ratchet didn't- couldn't think of anything else except of the valve directly over his face. Instantly he opened his mouth wide, tongue lolling out. Every receptor felt like it's overwhelmed by the presence of Drift and not for the first time for the night Ratchet felt like crying at the intensity of it.

Drift wasted no time in continuing then. No more slow grinding. No more lazy scissoring of his fingers. He used both hands to ram his valve full and to pinch his nub mercilessly.

"Ooooh... Oh I have so much for y-you Ratchet," he cooed, "I- I've been- I've build up so- so much hnggh!! You want- Y-you wan' em all R-ratch?"

His pace grew frantic and Ratchet didn't want to risk closing his mouth in fear that he'll miss the grand finale, so he just nod just as frantically. Almost dizzy in anticipation.

Then Drift froze, "Oh- Ah- ahn!! I- I'm!! UHN- OOOOH!!" fluid squeezed out of his valve as he pulled his fingers from his hole, squirting Ratchet's face as they both moaned in bliss. "Ooooh... Uh-uhn ha-ah!!" Drift crushed his nub to prolong the pleasure, eyes shuttering and mouth agape as more lubricant escaped his valve.

Ratchet felt his eyes glitched and reseted as the overflowing charge of arousal filled his view with static. Not that it mattered. Not when all he could focus on was the overwhelming sensation of Drift. The wetness on his face, the heat from the steamy valve, the choir of moans. The taste, dear primus, the taste. He could come like this, so easily too.

"Do you wanna come?"

"Yes-" he choked out. The feeling of valve fluid flowing down his throat was intoxicating. He would give it to him. " yes, yes please!!" Whatever Drift asked for he would give it as an offering, grateful that Drift would even let him.

Yet again Drift aluded him when he sat on the berth. At first Ratchet thought that Drift wanted him to come like that, on his knees, on the floor, alone while Drift couldn't care less, and dear god he would. But then Drift beckoned him up.

Ratchet stood up on wobbly legs, spike already out and primed to go. For how long who knows. Maybe all this time. A flicker of a sane thought at the back of his head presumed that maybe his exposed and aroused spike was the one that lured Drift to his berth. But that got shoved away when Drift cupped his own valve.

He dragged his fingers from the dorsal part up to his anterior node, collecting the lubricant in his palm. Then he reached out to dribble it on top of Ratchet's spike. That alone would've made him come. A lot of what Drift did can make Ratchet come.

Apparently that's not enough, because Drift pulled his legs up by the knees, opening his valve wide and said, "Come on me."

Well. There's that.

Ratchet moved between Drift's legs while beating his spike faster than he had ever before. Eyes fixed on the tempting valve displayed before him. His face was still dirty with the drying fluid. The taste still sticking his tongue to his palate. Oh how he longed to eat him up, to make him shout with his tongue, to have those plump lips smother him till he was forced to use his auxiliary ventilations.

Unknowingly, Ratchet had shifted closer in his fantasy and those valve lips brushed a sticky kiss on the head of his spike.

Ratchet exploded.

That was all he could explain what happened. The brief and only contact since this mess of a dalliance and it was too much. This is why mortals should never lay eyes upon the deity. Why the stars should only be appreciated from afar. His ears buzzed and popped. His visual feed fizzled before going black. Every part of Ratchet's body jerked as his spike inflated just a bit more and spilled his transfluid. Ratchet moaned long and low, the bliss of overload seeming to last forever as his hips jerked as spurt after spurt burst out of his spike.

When his eyes rebooted yet again, he saw those plump lips frosted with his seed. Fingers came into view, massaging the whole mess deeper. As if burying the evidence of their clandestine meeting.

Suddenly they're back to the real world. They're Drift and Ratchet in a small horrible space shuttle and their life were a mess, and why not add another one to the pile? Why tiptoe to hell when you can just canonball into it.

"uhm-"  
"I'm-"

Well. Talk about awkward.

The drying fluids on his face was starting to get uncomfortable and Ratchet can bet that Drift wasn't feeling any better with his transfluid up his valve. Wait. Right. Not thinking about it.

"Maybe you should use the washrack first," Drift turned around in pretense of checking the berth. "oh. Uh... I think you should... Use my berth in the mean time."

Oh yeah. Maybe not much of a pretense with four clear indents at the edge.

"Nah its okay. I'm not sleeping anymore after this, might as well fix the berth." Ratchet moved around Drift, steadfastly trying not to think how they're not touching or looking each other in the eye. "and if you gave me yours where're you going to sleep?"

Then he paused. Then picked up his pace to the washrack. All the while beating himself up for wasting his chance to share a berth with Drift. For maybe losing his chance of... Something .

Well, regret only comes when you knew what you missed. So he's not going to think about it.


End file.
